Deadly Diagnosis

by Mairi Chong

  Holly screwed up her face as if she was trying hard to think. She had already flushed her cheeks by slapping them in the toilet cubicle, to appear thoroughly distressed. She had even gone to the trouble of splashing tap water into her eyes until they stung. When Holly observed herself dispassionately in the mirror, she did look the part.

  They were standing by the till, and thankfully Tricia wasn’t around. A customer hurriedly paid for their goods and then withdrew leaving them to have, what must appear to be, an upsetting discussion.

  ‘That’s just it, Carol. I can’t remember. I’ve already gone over my flat last night and I’ve been up and down the street too looking, but the shop is the only place it can be.’ She pretended to think again. ‘I definitely had it on when I was sorting the stuff for the skip.’

  Carol looked like she knew something but she didn’t have the heart to say. ‘Well, we can all have a good look now, if you like. What did you say it was like?’

  Holly described some hideous, overelaborate, gold ring. To add to the drama, she gave it a small sapphire surrounded by diamonds, just to make it sound like a worthwhile search.

  ‘It was my grandmother’s, you see?’ Holly said to her, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. ‘Although the monetary value isn’t great, it’s the sentiment, you see?’

  Carol, always ready to show her magnanimous side, patted Holly on the arm. ‘We’ll find it today. Don’t you worry.’ But Holly knew that Carol didn’t believe her own words.

  Even Tricia dropped her scroll of labels to join in the search. She went so far as to get down on her hands and knees and look behind the toilet bowl, an act that Holly thought went way above and beyond the call of duty. Alex said that he was sure he had seen some nice jewellery coming in the other week, and both he and Neil searched to see if it had been accidentally placed with that, but it seemed that it all been sold, as these glass, sparkly items often were. In the end, after an hour of fruitless and frankly, overacted hunting on Holly’s part, Carol finally said that they’d have to give it up. Holly put up a bit of a fight, saying that maybe if they just looked a bit harder, but Carol would have none of it.

  ‘I didn’t want to say it at the start,’ she said, ‘but when you told me that you had been sorting things for the skip, it did cross my mind …’

  Holly stared at her. ‘What, Carol?’ she asked, forcing the older woman to break the bad news.

  ‘Well, there’s always the chance that it fell off into the skip if you were throwing bags over the side the other day. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say, but …’

  Holly did her best impression of someone hearing a devastating truth. She really went to town and enjoyed herself.

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘How could I have been so stupid? I’ll have to look.’ This, she said vehemently, as if her life depended on it.

  When she had made herself plain, Carol looked utterly incredulous. ‘You can’t,’ she stammered. ‘It’s impossible. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Imagine the mess too.’

  Holly stayed firm though. Health and safety were thrown into the mix of obstructions by Carol, but still, she wouldn’t be turned. Holly could see that it bothered Carol a good deal and she wondered why. Did she have something to hide after all? Had she thrown something in the skip that perhaps she shouldn’t? If anything, it made Holly outrageously determined, and she could see that Carol knew it too.

  ‘I’ll begin after lunch if that’s alright?’ Holly said. ‘I think we have enough people in the shop today anyway, so I’m surplus. I’ve probably caused everyone enough trouble as it is this morning.’

  Carol didn’t disagree.

  Holly had brought in a backpack from home, with a set of overalls. She changed into them in the toilet while the others stood drinking their tea. She quickly grabbed her own proffered mug as she passed, and drank the lukewarm liquid. God alone knew how she would ever eat or drink again after rummaging around the skip.

  Walking through the shop, she snapped on a pair of disposable gloves. After a second thought, Holly double-gloved to be extra safe, and went out, around the side of the building to the yellow cavernous pit, which was beginning to look far less cavernous than when she had last been there. It appeared that the rest of the team had been busily slinging bag after bag into the wretched metal box.

  It wasn’t easy to get into the damn thing, but once Holly had finally managed to clamber up, hauling herself over the cold side, bruising her ribs in the process, she stood, her feet sinking into the binbags. The smell was atrocious, which was surprising, given that the majority of the contents must only be clothes, but when she came across a bag full of food waste, she began to get edgy about rats. A wave of nausea suddenly hit her and the saliva in her mouth pooled. She shook her head in annoyance.

  She began to move gingerly about, coming across an arch-enemy almost immediately. She had grazed her ankles on the damn thing while it sat in the shop, unwanted. The multi-coloured plastic emerged and she lifted the horrible cat basket and flung it to the side. Due to the freezing weather overnight, the plastic, on hitting metal, shattered, a glorious smash of fragments. It almost made up for the arduous job with which she had encumbered herself.

  Being of a scientific mind, Holly did things methodically. She started at one end and then threw the bags that she had already opened over to the right, piling them high to make more room. A couple of passersby stopped and shouted something. Holly guessed that they worked for the garage on the other side of the car park, but she ignored them, not seeing any reason to explain herself. She must have looked quite a sight. Numerous opened bags brought back a recollection of why they had been discarded in the first place. Some of the clothes were stained and some even torn. Some were covered in dog hair or so worn that they would be impossible to sell. Some were of the variety that they could not sell anyway for hygiene reasons; the pyjamas, the underwear, she raked through it all.

  After twenty minutes of searching, she stood up and rested. It was hard going, repeatedly bending down and throwing. Many were now damp from being left out overnight. The front of her overalls was stained and wet, the disposable gloves were ripped at the wrist and inside them, her hands sweated, despite the cold. Her limbs felt heavy and useless.

  Neil appeared at that point, clearly keen to caw over her when she was at her most vulnerable.

  ‘Still not found it?’ he asked.

  He had put on his overcoat to come around and brought with him a steaming mug. Holly stood still panting, her hair loose in strands now over her face.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ she told him, blowing her hair off her forehead. ‘I’m not giving up though.’

  ‘Brought you a cup of tea to warm your hands,’ he said. ‘Don’t suppose you’ll find the ring though. Sounded like something I had in at the shop years ago. Nice, it was too, and pricey.’

  Holly ignored the proffered mug. How in the name of God could she stand in a skip and sip a cup of bloody tea anyway?

  ‘I’d better get back to it,’ she said, turning her back on him. She hoped that he wasn’t going to stand and watch. If he did, her search would have to be far more thorough for his benefit. ‘Go inside,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘There’s no point in both of us getting cold.’

  She didn’t turn to see but heard his footsteps retreating. Relieved to be alone once more, she continued. The only window looking out onto the car park from the charity shop was the one belonging to the toilet. Several times, she was aware of the light going on and off again, but the glass was frosted to protect the user’s modesty. Holly wondered if they were trying to peer through the hazed window to see how she was getting on, but she was too busy to bother.

  In the end, she came close to the middle of the skip and felt sure that if luck was on her side, she’d be granted the long-awaited bag. Several times, she had half fallen as she clambered over things, and had already had to grab out to the side once, catching hold of a broken mirror and scratching her arm. Holly hoped
to goodness that it wasn’t going to be in vain, after everything she had been through that day.

  After another ten minutes and almost despairing by that point, she finally found what she was looking for. It was funny because as soon as she touched the black refuse sack, she knew that it was the one. She hardly dared believe it though and tentatively untied the knot. Inside was the second bag, as Holly knew it must be. It was her who had placed it there the week or so before, after all. It took all of her will-power not to rip the bag open and allow the contents to spill forth, but she knew that the police would need to see it and there were ways of doing these things.

  The murderer had known what they were doing. They knew that whoever sorted through this bag would be unwilling to fully open it if it were wet, and this indicated to Holly that it had been either one of the charity shop workers or a regular customer. It had to be. Only insider knowledge would allow for this. They had, she assumed, thought it possible that the police might be suspicious and begin to search through personal bins looking for the clothes worn to kill Betty, as they had clearly already done in Thomas’s case. What safer place to get rid of the bloodstained clothes than the charity shop? And even better, the bag would now have any number of fingerprints on it. Far more sensible to leave it for one of the volunteers to handle, rather than tossing it directly into the skip themselves. And the irony must not have been lost on the perpetrator, who knew full-well that the evidence lay safely behind the very shop in which they had worked alongside their victim. Holly wondered at their audacity, but to murder someone must, in itself, take some daring. And who would question a donation?

  Holly recalled that day, opening up the shop with Carol, and together, them pulling the bags through. They had been piled high at the front door and Holly remembered having to dash through to the back carrying this one as it had leaked a trail of brown. Carol had had to bleach the floor again afterwards.

  Slowly, Holly reached into the sack. The boots were the first thing that she touched. She pushed her hand in further and touched the damp fabric. She was almost too afraid to pull the clothing out, knowing that the garment must surely be streaked with the blood of the old woman who she had once worked alongside.

  The rain had started to come on. It fell in an icy drizzle, but Holly hardly noticed. She didn’t know how she was going to explain her discovery to the rest of the volunteers, but the police would most certainly have to be informed, and as soon as possible.

  27

  Holly was frozen, her body shaking uncontrollably. Whether it was because of the dreadful discovery or the cold, she didn’t know. She realised that she would have to go inside first and clean up before informing the police. She left the bag in the skip, not wanting to disturb the evidence any further than necessary and somehow, slung her body over the side.

  ‘Any luck?’ Carol asked, standing at the till, with the electric heater on full blast.

  Holly shook her head. It hurt to look at the strip lighting. Her wearisome feet were no act this time. Holly walked through to the back. She passed Alex who asked her the same, but before she even told him, he must have known.

  ‘Cheer up. I bet it’s at home after all,’ he said. ‘I’ll check my house if you want. Were you wearing it that night, by the way?’

  Unfortunately, Neil appeared in the doorway at that point. Having clearly overheard, he looked from Alex to her, shaking his head, and all the time grinning like some inane chimp.

  ‘’A Charitable Romance.’ It has a ring to it, no Alex? One of those trashy novels that we get in.’ He made as to jog Alex’s arm, but missed and flailed his elbow in mid-air.

  Alex laughed it off, but she was too troubled to even try to feign amusement. She continued through to the toilet and shut the door, locking herself in. She sat on the covered seat, not needing to use the lavatory, but welcoming the solitude. Outside, she heard the muffled voices of the two men, with Neil’s jovial banter impossible to ignore, even though the words were no longer fully audible. The tiny room was draughty, and the bars on the small, frosted window made it feel like a cell. Carol had tried to brighten things up with heart-shaped soaps laid out on the cistern, and a rose-scented air-freshener.

  Holly sat there trembling, her head bowed, the heels of her hands pushed deep into her eye sockets, willing herself to think. Where she went from here, she didn’t know. She had now found physical evidence implicating a charity shop volunteer. She had achieved what she set out to do. Why then, did she baulk at the thought of informing the police?

  There was a tap at the door which made her jump.

  ‘Holly?’ came Alex’s voice. ‘I’ve made you a hot coffee. Come out and drink it, please. You must be frozen.’

  ‘Just coming,’ she called, and listened to him pause, and then, she heard his footsteps retreat.

  Holly leaned her head against the cold woodchip of the wall, feeling the pattern like hives against her skin. Although she had been frozen through, she was sweating. She needed to take stock, and change direction. She would inform the police and begin to think again. Someone in the shop must have had a strong motive to kill. It was odd how much it bothered her, but it did. Perhaps she was fonder of them than she had made out. How might she feel if it turned out to be one of the volunteers? But if she was serious about solving the damn thing, and for some reason, she had assigned herself the task now, she must be prepared for what was to come.

  It seemed to Holly, that the only way to get to the bottom of all of this, was to find a real and substantial motive. Without that, anyone or his neighbour might have murdered Betty. Finding irrefutable and strong motivation for the murder must be the only way forward. If she knew why the crime had been committed, it had to lead to the perpetrator. The police could run their lab tests and comb the clothing in the skip for DNA, or whatever. Holly knew, though, that the evidence might not be enough in court, as any one of the volunteers might have good reason to have DNA on the damn garments given that they had come through the shop.

  Holly finally unlocked the door having freshened up, she walked back through.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said and downed the mug of coffee that Alex had left her on the side. ‘I need to make a phone call. Back in a bit.’ She made her way to the door. ‘I just need to nip out. Private call,’ she explained to Carol who raised her eyebrows.

  Not knowing who she should ask to speak to, Holly stood on the doorstep, scrolling down through her phone. It was hardly a nine-nine-nine call of course. She yawned and leaned back on the shop window. The day seemed to have gone on forever. Her head felt fuzzy and ached. Holly looked down at her phone screen. The numbers seemed to be moving. She took a step forward and held the phone out at arm’s length. Stupid bloody thing. Still, it wasn’t right. She looked across the street and saw people looking across at her and pointing. The sound of the traffic was muffled and low. She shook her head, trying to clear it. What was wrong with her? And then, the picture distorted and changed angle. She saw feet and ankles, and then nothing.

  28

  ‘Cathy? It’s Alex. Can you talk?’

  He sounded breathless, and Cathy could hear traffic in the background.

  ‘I’m about to call in a patient, Alex, what’s up?’ she asked, glancing at her computer screen.

  It was only the following day, and they had already arranged a time to meet up later that evening. If Cathy was honest, she was a little hashed. It had been a busy morning already and she had slept little the night before for worrying about Betty’s death.

  Alex’s voice was emotionless. ‘It’s fine, I’ll call nine-nine-nine,’ he said. The phone went dead.

  Cathy paced up and down her room as she repeatedly tried to call him back, but instead of hearing his voice, she got the engaged signal. She swore under her breath and phoned through to Michelle.

  ‘Michelle? I’ve only got two booked-in as duty doctor, can you transfer both to Linda, I see she’s quiet? I’ve just had an emergency call. I need to go out.’

 
‘Of course, Dr Moreland. They didn’t come through us though, was the call direct to you?’

  ‘Yes, I gave out my mobile number. I’ll have to go. Apologise to Linda for me, please. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.’

  Cathy took her doctors’ bag, not knowing if she might need it. She snatched up her car keys and jogged down the corridor to the back door. All the while, her mind was racing. She assumed that Alex must be at the charity shop given the time of day, but she had no idea really. It could end up being a wild goose chase, but by the tone of his voice, something awful had happened. Getting into her car, she signalled left and turned out of the practice car park, heading into town. The rain had come on and was now falling quite heavily in icy sheets. The roads were treacherous. Twice her traction control kicked in, juddering the car as she turned too tight around a corner. What on earth was going on? Why had he said he’d need to call the emergency services? Had someone else been hurt, and if so, who?

  She saw them long before she was anywhere near the charity shop. Blue lights lit up the neighbouring buildings, sending fierce, fluorescent lightning into the already charged atmosphere. The ambulance had parked up and was blocking half of the road, meaning the cars were gridlocked. Cathy abandoned her own down a side-street and ran up towards the shop carrying her doctors’ bag. When she arrived though, the ambulance crew were already shutting the doors and getting in the cab.

  She saw Alex then. He looked dreadful. His face was pale and he ran his hand around the back of his neck.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked, going to him.

  He shook his head, clearly in shock. ‘It was Holly. I don’t know what happened. She went out to make a phone call and then someone on the street came crashing in the shop saying she had collapsed. She looked horrible, Cathy. The ambulance crew put an intravenous line in her and said they’d just take her straight in.’

  Cathy saw the rest of the volunteers peering out from inside the shop.